


all the scars are on the inside

by flowersforgraves



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Betrayal, Held Down, M/M, Minor canon divergence, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Sexual Abuse, Public Sex, Sex Repulsion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: With Atlantis under his control, Lucius is well within his power to do whatever he wants to John.





	all the scars are on the inside

**Author's Note:**

> song lyric title pulled from ['Veteran of the Psychic Wars'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGKNaIXtBZQ)

“Isn’t this so exciting?” Carson is fussing over John, unbuckling his tac vest and brushing imaginary dirt from his shirt. “I wish Lucius had chosen me. But I’m sure you’re just as pleased!”

John has stopped trying to pull away. He’s pressed in on all sides by other Lanteans, all chattering about how they envy him and wish they could take his place. If he doesn’t let Carson tidy him up, they’ll just push him back in place, more and more violently. He -- doesn’t want to hurt them. That’s the primary goal, he tells himself, keep his people safe.

 _Keep your people safe_ is just fine to say when it’s about getting married off-planet, or even about hunting Genii through the city during a storm, but when _keep your people safe_ involves Lucius fucking him, he can’t help but recoil. He shouldn’t be upset. Shouldn’t be anxious and twitchy and on the verge of snapping. Shouldn’t be edging toward a panic attack at the mere thought of sexual contact with Lucius.

Carson has removed the tac vest and now Rodney is unlacing his boots. John stands as still as possible, resists the urge to kick Rodney in the face, resists the desire to throw a punch. He steps out of the boots when Rodney tells him to, and now he’s just in a tee shirt and BDU pants. Ready for Lucius, apparently, because Elizabeth radios the man in question.

“Lucius! John is ready!” She sounds _joyful_ , like she doesn’t know John has hangups about sex, like she doesn’t know John has parts of his past he won’t talk about, like she doesn’t know John has gaps in his memory from repressing old traumas.

Lucius’ voice crackles over the radio. “I’m on my way. Oh -- would you all like to watch?”

John almost throws up. Elizabeth claps like she’s delighted. “Would you like to watch?” she shouts to the crowd.

“YES!” It’s almost thundering, and everyone sounds so eager to watch Lucius violate John. He knows they’re under the influence of the drug, but it fucking _hurts_ to see Ronon so excited, to see Teyla smiling.

“We would love to, Lucius,” Elizabeth says into the radio. 

John forces himself to smile as Elizabeth turns to give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. _It’s just torture,_ he tries to tell himself. _It’s not forever._

Lucius strolls around the corner a few moments later. His shirt is open, and John swallows another wave of nausea. Lucius smiles at him, fully aware of how much John hates this. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

John bites his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Lucius moves up in front of him and beckons him to sit on Elizabeth’s desk. John hesitates, but the look in Rodney’s eye changes his mind, and he sits.

“Undress,” Lucius says. 

John already feels exposed and naked, but he obeys, pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the floor. Lucius gestures for him to continue, so he slowly removes his BDUs and socks as well. “Carson, why don’t you fold the colonel’s clothes for him?” Lucius asks, that sickly sweet honeyed tone practically dripping.

“It’s okay,” John says. “You don’t have to.”

Ronon frowns. “Are you saying Lucius made a bad decision?” There are rumblings from the other bystanders, dissatisfied that John would dare to contradict Lucius.

“No,” John says quickly. “No, I’m just saying that Lucius is being -- too nice.” The words catch in his throat, and he sends Lucius a hateful stare. The man smiles back at him, infuriatingly smug.

“He is a very generous man,” Ronon agrees, nodding. Thankfully, that seems to have dropped the matter, but it also allows everyone to focus on John again.

“So?” he asks Lucius with a belligerence he doesn’t feel. “What’s it gonna be?”

Lucius just keeps smiling. “I’m going to put you on your back to fuck you.”

John sets his jaw.

Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, Elizabeth, and Carson move forward, and John almost starts crying then and there. Getting fucked is bad enough -- getting fucked in public is worse, and getting fucked in public with his best friends holding him down worst of all. 

“Lucius said we could join in,” Rodney says, eyes shining with joy. “Isn’t that great?”

He can’t speak. Instead he nods, because making them angry isn’t going to be helpful in the slightest. He lies back numbly, lifting his feet and spreading his knees. Ronon grabs one wrist, Rodney the other, while Elizabeth and Teyla pull his legs into position and Carson tangles a hand in his hair.

Lucius is putting on a show for the rest, slicking his fingers theatrically and undoing his pants with one hand. When he leans over to kiss John messily, he whispers, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

John tries desperately to shut himself down. It doesn’t work, and Rodney slams his clenched right fist down on the desk. Ronon’s grip tightens hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow. Carson’s fingers twist in his hair, tugging painfully and bringing involuntary tears to his eyes. 

Lucius is sickeningly gentle. He works John’s hole open, which -- he’s not surprised now that he thinks about it, because prepping him is just another ‘nice guy’ thing to do before he fucks John -- hurts much less than he expected. He plays with John’s nipples and dick and makes a show of kissing John tenderly. It’s a show, it’s for the benefit of the bystanders, but John can feel the glee and excitement in Lucius at the deception. 

When Lucius slicks his cock and pushes into John with a single smooth motion, John can feel everyone holding him tighten their grip, save Teyla. The pressure of the crowd watching redoubles, and where he’s being held down his skin feels like it’s burning. He’s not sure if it’s his imagination or reality, but the assembled Lanteans seem to press closer, his friends restraining him leaning further over the desk.

As Lucius starts rocking his hips John tries desperately to focus on anything besides the awful situation he’s in. But everything he can see to fixate on just makes it worse. The heat of the bodies surrounding him and Lucius, the light sheen of sweat on Lucius’ forehead, the ring on Elizabeth’s finger warmed by his skin and hers -- it’s all so _real_ and _solid_ and _visceral_ and he wants to scream. It’s overwhelming in the worst way, too much sensation with Lucius finally finding the right angle to hit John’s prostate and the hand in his hair and the low hum of the lights and air cycling system.

He breaks.

“Please,” he whispers. It’s half sob and half breath, but it’s enough to make Lucius come hard with the head of his dick brushing John’s prostate and broad fingers digging into John’s hips. 

He knows well enough how it feels to have come in his ass, so he tries to swallow his discomfort and tune it out. When Lucius pulls out, leaving a thin trail of come leaking from John’s hole, the man turns to his sycophants, lifting his semen-covered fingers. “Colonel Sheppard is an _excellent_ lay,” he announces, and there are fucking _cheers_ from the audience.

John wants to curl up in a ball somewhere cool and dark and hide away from everyone for the rest of his life. What he gets instead is Lucius helping him sit up and taking his arm to walk him to Elizabeth’s quarters, fully naked and dripping come from his ass. The crowd of Lucius’ thralls follows, until Lucius stops them from entering, saying, “We’ll be back shortly. I just want some private time with Colonel Sheppard, here.”

John’s blank stare lands on Rodney. The man’s eyes are alight, looking up at Lucius adoringly in a way he never looks at anyone. Any hope that Rodney will be resisting the drug flees, looking the way he does, and John bites his lip instead of letting out a despairing cry.

And then Lucius has whisked him inside, and the door is shut and he is being shoved down onto Elizabeth’s bed. It still smells like her deodorant and the sham-shampoo the scientists cooked up their first year. Lucius hovers over him, no longer bothering to hide his malicious grin. 

“I’m proud of you,” he says. “I was expecting you to give us trouble.”

“Us who?” John asks, reckless in feeling small. “You didn’t give them any choice.”

Lucius smiles down at him. “They enjoyed it, though, didn’t they? How many of them do you think harbored secret fantasies of sleeping with you? And I just gave them the closest thing they’ll ever get to the real thing.” He pauses, as if realizing something. “Or I could gift you to them. Set you up in a quiet little room and let your people take tickets waiting in line to fuck you.”

John can’t suppress a full-body shudder of revulsion. He’s already nauseous, but that makes bile surge up into his throat -- he swallows it with some effort, but he can feel the nausea lurking, waiting for another chance to strike.

“You don’t like that idea?” Lucius asks. “Well. You had better do what I say then, hmm?” With that, he shoves John’s knees apart again, sticking his fingers into John’s mouth. “See, that out there was for them. This in here? Well, this is for me. But I’m a nice guy. Everyone says so. So I’m giving you the opportunity to lick the fingers I’m going to put in your ass. Wouldn’t want you to complain.”

John shuts his eyes. Lucius’ fingers taste like rubbing alcohol, and he almost gags again. But he obediently sucks and licks Lucius’ fingers, because he’s going to do everything he can to make this easier on himself. He’d only be hurting himself by refusing.

Lucius withdraws his fingers from John’s mouth with a slick pop. “Turn over.”

He does. Not being able to see what’s coming makes it worse, though, and he presses his face into Elizabeth’s quilt -- sham-shampoo, deodorant, Elizabeth -- and tries to make himself relax.

It’s worthless. John is so tense he can’t force himself to unclench without a lot of prep and lube and reassurance, but Lucius is giving him none of that. He gets two fingers right away, a burn around his hole as the muscles tear. Lucius’ cock makes an appearance again shortly after, stretching him further beyond what he’s ready for. There’s going to be blood on Elizabeth’s quilt, and it’s going to be his fault, and _that_ , of all things, that is what sends him over the edge into a panic attack.

He’s never hyperventilated to the edge of unconsciousness before, but he does black out for a brief moment. It’s only a few seconds, because Lucius is still fucking into him hard and fast and merciless, and he has a hand in John’s hair to alternately force his head down into the mattress and pull John’s head back to expose his throat. The cock stretching John out feels bigger than the first time, but it has to be all in his head. It has to.

John comes before Lucius does. His body likes things his mind hates, and his body is a goddamn traitor, and his body doesn’t fucking understand that John is hurting and scared and feeling lost and hopeless. His body makes him clench tighter around Lucius’ cock, and let out a long moan, and whites out his vision for a moment with the force of his orgasm. 

Lucius laughs. John lets out a quiet sob, hands fisted in the quilt to keep him from digging nails into his skin. Lucius is saying something, but John can’t hear anything but the roar of self-hate in his ears and the blood pounding in his veins. It’s probably just as well, he thinks, because Lucius isn’t likely to let this go.

Lucius comes with a shout, again buried in John’s hole, filling him with come that will leak out as soon as he shifts position. When he pulls John to the floor and turns him over, the wide Cheshire-cat grin on his face hasn’t faded. “Get out,” Lucius says. “Ronon has your clothes.”

John crawls out of the room, clenching to try and minimize the amount of semen on Elizabeth’s floor. He stands up outside the room, still naked, and when the door shuts behind him he leans against the wall, exhausted and disgusted and feeling filthy.

Lorne is standing outside. He’s not naked, which is a relief, but he’s still in Lucius’ thrall, based on the hungry way he looks John up and down for signs of Lucius claiming him. 

It takes a few tries to get the words out, but John manages it. “Gotta find Ronon,” he rasps. 

Lorne points down the corridor. “He’s in his room. How was it? I bet Lucius was such a caring lover. And I know if it were me I would have tried my hardest to make it good for him.”

“Fine,” John mumbles.

He’s too tired to care that he’s leaving a sticky trail of come drying behind him as he shuffles down to Ronon’s quarters. A knock on the door brings Ronon to greet him.

“Hi,” Ronon says. His eyes flick up and down John -- it’s close to the way Lorne had, but John can imagine a bit more clarity there. “Here’s your stuff.” He hands over a neatly folded stack of clothes, the ones John had removed earlier. “If you wanna come in to put it on…?”

John nods, still silent. He looks a question at Ronon when he hesitates before going into the bathroom, but Ronon nods. “Bathroom’s clean. You probably don’t want to ruin your clothes if Lucius is gonna fuck you again.”

He makes it to the toilet before he throws up.

There’s nothing in his stomach left to vent, just bile and spit and shame. But that’s enough, because when he’s done retching emptily he sits on the floor and sobs. John has mastered the art of near-silent breakdowns, so the loudest noise he makes is blowing his nose as more helpless tears come in a fresh wave.

It’s about half an hour of crying and throwing up nothing and scrubbing his skin later that he finally feels like he can come back out. He still feels dirty, but that’s not going to go away anytime soon, so he ignores it as best he can and squares his shoulders to face Ronon. Thankfully Ronon is his usual taciturn self and doesn’t comment on John looking disheveled, but he still ducks out as quickly as he can.

In that time, he’s managed to concoct half an idea. Wearing a medical safety mask isn’t going to be inconspicuous, but it’ll be the best weapon he has. Stealing some from the infirmary isn’t difficult, and Teyla is the first person he corners. He shoves the mask into her hands. “Put it on,” he tells her. “Lucius says.”

She does, and John hands her the rest of them. “Round up everyone you can,” he says. “Please.” He turns around and flees before he can no longer suppress the panicky feeling swelling in his chest.

He hides in his quarters for the next several hours, thinking about the saying about atheists in foxholes, and wishing desperately to believe this simple plan will net him any gain. 

The fitful sleep he’s finally managed to catch is interrupted by Lucius. The man has his entourage outside John’s quarters, and he’s half-convinced they would break down the door on Lucius’ say-so. So he opens the door, and Lucius is smiling that horrible smile and he’s flanked by Rodney and Lorne. John makes himself smile like he hasn’t been crying on and off for the past eight hours, like he’s just as taken in as they are, like he’s eager to get his hole fucked by a man he hates.

“You’re going to show me how to fly one of those little ships,” Lucius says. “My good friend Doctor Beckett --” Carson beams, stepping up beside him. “-- has just injected me with that stuff to let me control your technology.”

John’s smile melts. Every fiber of himself is screaming to stop, screaming for mercy, screaming to let him wake up and let this horrible nightmare end.

John doesn’t wake up, because he’s not asleep and he’s not having a nightmare. This is all too real, but he’s determined to not let it break him. “Okay,” he says.

Ten minutes later they’re flying Jumper 1 out over the ocean. Carson is along for the ride -- security for Lucius as well as a bargaining chip to hold over John. But John knows what to do, now. This is the opportunity he’s needed. Lucius doesn’t have the drug with him, and he knows a place three people can survive for a week. That’s all they have to do, survive, survive until the drug wears off the Lantean population.

He plunges Jumper 1 into the ocean. Lucius and Carson get out; John has that much control at least. He’s starting to not care if he doesn’t get out himself, but _keep your people safe_ means he needs to make sure Lucius doesn’t take this out on Carson. So he drags himself out of the cockpit, and Carson helps him onto the shore of the small island, and they settle down to wait.

John knows he has at least three days of being held down and used before the Lanteans come for them, but -- that’s better than staying in Atlantis. 

It no longer matters that he hide his unwillingness. He doesn’t have to put on a show anymore. And the fact that that’s an improvement, a boon, a blessing -- John doesn’t want to think about it. _Three days and counting down._


End file.
